Unlikely Aid
by lezonne
Summary: Rose never really thought much about Scorpius's homelife before, until an unlikely source sheds light on some things. Light implied romance. Written for the Your Favorite Hogwarts House Boot Camp prompt #25, the Bellatrix in a Hogwarts House Painting Fest, the Holiday Spirit: Christmas Boot Camp prompt #4 and the After Midnight Challenge.


Written for the _Your Favorite Hogwarts House Boot Camp _prompt #25 (five minutes to midnight), the _Bellatrix in a Hogwarts House Painting Fest,_ the _Holiday Spirit: Christmas Boot Camp _prompt #4 (candles) and the _After Midnight Challenge. _

* * *

Unlikely Aid

I think the Gods are trying to tell us something. Else, they've found a creative way to ruin our lives.

Actually, this is all Malfoy's fault. To be more specific, it's his grandmother's fault.

Narcissa Malfoy was a woman of class. When her husband was arrested and sent to Azkaban to rot she grieved how she knew best- by crying. Then one fateful day as the newspapers say, something astounding happened.

Or in my case, something quite annoying. Just like the Malfoy's, the Blacks keep prized portraits of lost family members. Unfortunately, Narcissa gained one of Bellatrix Lestrange when she passed. From what I've heard that woman is one of the worst people to ever walk the earth, right beside Voldemort. No wonder they got along so well.

But, back to our story. Narcissa kept the portrait of her sister for a while, talking to her in death and trying to make her see the error of her ways. That didn't work. After about a year of having the portrait at Malfoy Manor the residents finally got fed up with it and Draco Malfoy sent the portrait to Hogwarts. Why they ever took the damn gift, I'll never know.

Maybe it's a form of punishment for her. Personally I think it punishes everyone else too.

Now that bloody painting hangs in the corridors at the end of an unused hallway, one which I have to patrol as a prefect with Scorpius Malfoy every Monday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday night. The odds are not in my favor.

At least if nothing else, the portrait hates Malfoy just as much as it hates me. I think we should either send it back to the Manor or just burn the thing. No one cares about it and certainly no one wants it around. It is an insulting nuisance to all who pass.

I wish we didn't have to patrol that hallway, but in the end we do. We could always just split up on patrols, but that would be too easy. Neither of us is going to volunteer to check that section, and in the end we end up wandering around together because we can't come to an agreement. We stopped having the argument weeks ago when we finally realized it wasn't going anywhere.

If the silly children who like to escape out past curfew would stop hiding in the rooms at the end of this hallway that they _think _no one checks we wouldn't have to come down here. But alas, they do, and several times we've found Bellatrix screaming at some poor soul. The children who encounter her never come back down this way again at least. Why they can't tell their friends and just keep this hallway clear is a mystery to me.

I've gotten into this funny habit of using a candle when I patrol. Why? Because then my wand is fully available to mess with Malfoy when he gets on my nerves. Why we have to always be partnered up, I'll never know.

"We don't live in prehistoric times Weasley," Malfoy reminds we as we walk for perhaps the millionth time this year. Sixth year has been such a pain since I figured out all of our patrols are scheduled together. When I owled home to my parents and told them that I was stuck partnered with their enemy's son for the rest of the year, my mother sent me pity and my father attached a list of spells in case of an emergency. Nothing was ever mended between Draco Malfoy and my parents- Ron and Hermione. I doubt that things ever will be.

"You're not going to tell me to use my wand again are you Malfoy? That lines getting old. You tell me pretty much every night."

"And every night you isist on using it instead of your wand. What are you going to do if that candle falls one night, hmm Weasley? What will you do then?"

"Well, I'll use my wand to attack you, because I'm sure it will be your fault, and then I'll light my way back to the candle. It's not like anything's going to come out and attack us Malfoy. The wars long since over."

"That doesn't mean that all bad things go away with war Weasley," he reminds, stepping ahead of me. I stare at his back, eyebrows drawn together. I really don't like the sound of that.

"I'm not a fool Malfoy," I snap as we march down the hallway. "Everything evil from the world isn't gone- you're proof enough of that."

"I'm flattered Weasley, you're actually thinking of me now?"

"Only about how nice it would be if I were anywhere but here." Glancing down at my muggle wristwatch, I groan. "It's five minutes to midnight. She's going to be grouchier than normal when we go check the corridor."

"Then you go check it by yourself. I'm not dealing with anymore of her attitude than I already have to."

"Malfoy, she's _your _relative. There's no way you're getting out of this." He tries to dart away from the hallway, and I use my wand to stop him in his tracks. "No way! Come on, let's go see her."

"I don't know why you sound so excited about this Weasley. It's not like she enjoys seeing either of us."

"I know. Now let's get this done and over with as quickly as possible."

I don't argue as we start down the hallway. I hope tonight there's nothing wrong down here and we can get away from Bellatrix as quickly as possible. Tonight I have a growing migraine, and don't think I can handle her insults. I've already put in a request to have the painting permanently removed from the school.

"Oh, here we go again. The Halfblood wench and my pathetic little nephew have come to visit!"

I cringe at the sound of her voice. Too bad Bellatrix wasn't asleep tonight.

"Ignoring me I see, Scorpius," she continues as Malfoy plunges on far ahead of me, checking the area swiftly before turning back. "I knew you would. You're the opposite of your sad little father- he was all talk and no play. And you're no talk and all- well, never mind. You're not much of anything. Just like he isn't much of anything now."

Malfoy freezes at that, and I arch an eyebrow. Usually he brushes off everything that she says without batting an eye. Yet tonight she seems to have gotten under his skin- but what did she say that was so upsetting? I don't think she's said anything monumentally offending for once in the last minute or two. Usually by now she's moved on to insulting my mother.

"My father's the exact same as he used to be," he snaps, glancing back at the portrait. "Nothing's changed that."

"Are you so sure? I hear little rumors that all is not well is the dredged and downtrodden house of Malfoy. Things have gone astray there."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he continues stiffly, squaring his shoulders. "Nothing's wrong at my house."

"Are you so sure? I would beg to differ."

"I'm positive! It's not like you know anything Bella! You're dead."

"I am, I'm very dead. But I have this handy-dandy painting back at the Manor that you're loving father threw into the basement. Sometimes he journeys down there when he-"

"That's enough!" He whirls on the painting, glaring at his great-aunt's smirking face. "You don't know anything about what's happening at my home."

"And I think, sweet Scorpius, that that's the problem. I don't think you really know what's going on either."

"I know enough. I know enough to know that I shouldn't worry."

"Is that something you're father told you, or something you decided for yourself?"

Instead of responding, Scorpius storms off in a childlike fashion. I'm a bit surprised by his behavior, for I have never seen him lose his cool over something Bella has said before. Usually he has something spiteful to spit back at her, then she argues with me and we continue on our way in much less pleasant moods. Tonight she's not even paying me a second thought.

She has nothing to say to me as I follow him out, curious. I have half a mind to ask what's up, but instead keep my lips firmly shut. He looks ready to hit something, and just in case his temper is bad I don't want to be on the receiving end of that blow. Instead I'll wait and watch, and ask my question when best seems fit.

And trust me, I'll be asking him questions.

* * *

For three nights we patrol the same area, and each time it's our turn to patrol Scorpius Malfoy avoids the area his great-aunt's portrait is at all costs. By the second night I brave going down there alone, risking insults piled on insults while he calmly waits back at the front of the hall for my return.

It's annoying, I'll say that much. Bellatrix has a comment for everything, even if there's nothing to comment about. On the third night I walk down there and spy a second year who's currently hiding in a room near the portrait, scared of her insults. He won't leave the room.

I've heard a lovely rumor that this horrid thing will be removed by Sunday. I seriously can't wait to be rid of it. After getting the second year out of the room and past Bellatrix's crude self I wander back out to the main corridor and spy Malfoy, sitting hunched on the floor with his hands on his ears.

That's odd.

The second year tugs on my robes, a boy whose name is apparently Albert. "What's wrong with him?"

I purse my lips. "Nothing. Look, have you had enough scares for one night?"

He nods quickly. "Oh yes, I'm never coming out past curfew again! This place is filled with terrible things after class is over."

"Right… well, why don't you run back to your common room for me? It's just down the way, and I'll be able to tell from here whether or not you entered. Go on then, back to your room."

Albert hurries off, but my attention isn't on him anymore as soon as he leaves my side. Instead it's on the blond man across from me, head bowed as he ignores anything that's been said. I've never seen Malfoy be so quiet for so long.

It's kind of unnerving. I glance down the corridor that leads to Bella's portrait, wondering if it has anything to do with her. I chance a look in the direction the boy went too, realizing he's gone. I have faith that the child had enough of a scare and is through playing games now, at least for tonight. After a bit of hesitation I eventually drop down and sit in front of the man.

"You're awfully solemn tonight."

"I have things on my mind," he sneered, slowly raising his head. Blond fringe hides his right eye, but the prominent sneer across his face causes me to arch an eyebrow. It is quite a forced expression. I think he's trying to make himself look more sinister and angry than he actually is. "If you're done playing babysitter, we better go."

"At least I'm not the one who's nearly crying in the corridor," I remark, not standing up. His eyes darker, but I see the smallest trace of fear ghost across his face. "Your left cheek is slightly shiny. At least one tear escaped your eyes."

He turns away from me, squaring his shoulders as he stands. Here comes that tough guy persona again, rearing its ugly head. "Well don't expect it to happen again."

He's already halfway down the hallway when I finally stand. I almost turn to follow with my candle in hand when something catches my eye on the floor. Bending down I pick it up and discover it to be an emerald incrusted ring.

An emerald incrusted ring with a large _M _ in the center. My eyes follow Malfoy's retreating figure. If I didn't know any better, this looks like some sort of family heirloom.

I wonder why he left it on the floor. Maybe he just forgot it. But I don't know how anyone could forget anything this big and obnoxious. I tuck it inside my robes, following him.

And the questions just continue to pile on. This looks like something the man of the house would wear. Yet Malfoy is still too young to be considered one of those, and father's constantly telling Hugo that usually the son would have to be married before being considered the man in a Pureblood household- the leader. Apparently his family never followed this tradition.

But why would he have this?

* * *

"You're not very good at masking your emotions," I say two days later as we wander along doing our patrols. He's talking today, but his voice is stiff and lifeless. It's like he's talking on autopilot.

"I never said I was Weasley," he replies, walking several steps behind me. "I never said I was trying to."

I scoff. "Yeah, like I believe that."

"Believe what you will. I'm not trying to convince you of anything."

"So I've noticed. Well tonight Malfoy, you go and investigate the corridor with Bellatrix. I on the other hand will be looking through the corridor next door-"

I don't even finish my sentence before I'm spun around, coming face to face with a rather angry looking blond. My read curls fly out around me, moving wildly at the sudden action.

"Weasley, I'm not going down there. I have enough shit to deal with right now, I don't need to deal with hers too."

I don't quite have a response to that sentence. Instead I turn and watch him stop away for all of three steps before I extinguish the flame to my candle and chuck the blasted thing at him. Yes, I literally threw a candle his way.

He spins on me immediately, glaring at me. "What the hell-"

"Would you quit with your blasted attitude?" I snap, rolling my eyes. "Merlin, you seriously are a spoiled brat."

He scoffs. "Spoiled is a relative term."

"Malfoy, you're richer than half of England. You're rich, and you're obviously spoiled. Now if you don't mind, I'm tired of putting up with your mood swings and your griping. You're worse than a woman."

Now I've really got his attention. "I am nothing like a woman!"

"I'm not so sure Malfoy. You have these little fits, you refuse to go places, you-"

"I see you've made a list. Now _that _sounds like a woman."

"Ugh, you're insufferable!" I spin away from him, balling up my hands. "Honestly, if you would just say what your bloody problem is we could avoid blow-ups like this!"

"You want to know what my problem is Weasley? You really want to go digging around there?"

"If it will get you to act like yourself again and maybe make patrols normal again then yes, please, indulge me. I'm ever so curious to hear about the dramas of a rich-boy."

I know I've gotten under his skin now. I turn back, pulling out my wand for light, and place one hand on my hip, waiting for an explanation. I can see the fire in his eyes.

"It's not a petty rich-boy problem if that's what you're thinking."

"Then what is it Malfoy? Merlin, just spit it out!"

"My parents are getting a divorce," he says, his tone dead. I bite back any sort of comment I would've had to that, staring at him. His expression's softened a hair, but his eyes still burn with fire. "There you have it- the big secret. They're splitting up."

Well out of everything I expected him to say, this wasn't it. Maybe that he was unhappily awaiting the birth of a sibling perhaps, or even a death in the family, but not a divorce. From what my mother always told me, Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy were a match made in hell. They were both cold, sarcastic Slytherin's as she put it. They were destined for one another.

Granted, I've never personally met either of them, but I've heard plenty of stories from far too many people. It's one of those marriages you never really think about because you're sure that it'll last forever. Apparently, that was a lie.

My mouths dry as I try to say something. My own parents are happily married and deeply in love. I can't imagine either of them ever divorcing. There's no way I can even try to relate to him on this topic, and he knows it. I can see the hate in his eyes.

He _hates _me, and now I think I know why. My parents are happily married and always have been, while his home life is currently falling apart. No wonder he's been so touchy lately.

But something's bothering me, even as we stare at each other through the silence. Bellatrix's portrait mentioned something about the basement of the Manor…

"What caused the divorce?" I ask, edging towards my real question. His eyes narrow.

"Like you care Weasley. Don't ask questions just so you can poke fun at me."

"I don't plan to make fun of you," I say, shaking my head. "Believe me, I wouldn't. I might not have to personally deal with my parents splitting, but I've seen people go through it and I know it's hard, but at least-"

"Oh please, don't pity me," he snaps, rolling his eyes. "The last thing I need is pity."

"You always need pity," I reply, tilting my head. "You're keeping your emotions repressed."

"Who says?"

"Um, the boy that I found crouched in the hallway a few days ago? The one that's been on edge since Bellatrix's portrait mentioned something about a basement misadventure? You might think that you have your emotions tightly spun and veiled from the public eye, but you don't. During class, you're mask is perfect and intact. You're the same snobby egotistical prat you've always been. But at night you change. You're weary from pretending all day, and the mask slides off. You let your emotions peak through, just a little. You need pity Malfoy because you're breaking. The divorce is affecting you."

"It's not affecting me," he snaps in response.

I shrug. "You can lie to yourself all you want Malfoy, but I see the truth. Underneath the tough exterior, you're hurting from this."

"You don't know anything," he snaps again, but I can see his resolve breaking. Just like I said, he's weary from pretending all day. He's tired and just wants to sleep his troubles away, which I suspect go deeper than just traditional divorce. He has some sort of secret burden that he's carrying around, one that he doesn't want to reveal. I can't help wondering what it is.

"I know enough to know that you'll break under the pressure," I counter, sauntering past him. Maybe if I wear down his resolve just a bit more, he'll break and tell me what's up. But I don't know if that'll happen tonight. He could just as easily bolt away at any given moment, and I've already thrown my candle at him.

He groans, leaning back against the wall. I pause for a moment, watching his body language. He does look ready to break indeed. Stepping back to the opposite wall I sink into the floor, watching his body do the same. We're sitting now, and I arch an eyebrow. Maybe he will talk after all.

For a long time he doesn't say anything at all. Then, finally, he speaks.

"It starts with a sin."

"Excuse me?" Now I'm completely thrown, adjusting my position a little. He laughs hollowly.

"It started with a sin. For a while my mother was ill, and we thought she wouldn't make it. It took about a year, but she got better, and everything was well at home."

"I remember that. My parents spoke of it often. It was all over the news the summer of our first year."

"Yeah, it was. The media couldn't get enough of her death."

I cringe at his words. "And what happened after that?"

He pauses, before he shakes his head and looks away from me. "Why am I telling you this Weasley?"

"To get it off your chest?"

Again, that hollow laugh. "Hardly, I have Xavier for that. No Rose, I'm telling you so you'll get off my case. Maybe you'll stop pestering me to go down that fucking hall."

I'm just as surprised by his vulgar language as I am by the use of my first name. Unlike his father, Scorpius isn't known to swear like a sailor. "And what exactly are you going to tell me?"

He shakes his head again, eyes finally drifting back towards me. "Have you ever dealt with addiction problems?"

"I can't say I have… my parents are both clean."

The blond scoffs. "Lucky you. When my mother was sick apparently dear daddy took up a habit to help him cope with what was happening. I found out during this summer. Supposedly he was off the drugs for about a year, but I don't know for sure. I knew he's been looking older than he should."

"What kind of drugs?" It's a bold question, but I'm too slow to stop it from slipping off my tongue. I wasn't quite aiming to say that out loud.

He gives me a dark look. "Pixie Dust."

Pixie Dust is not something of favor in the magical world. While I know that it has a muggle association with typically good things, in the wizarding world it is extremely bad. Pixie Dust is like the muggle world's version of cocaine. I'm surprised to hear that someone like Draco Malfoy would take up such a habit.

"I'm… I'm sorry."

"Don't be Weasley, as this isn't really you're fault, now is it? It's the fucking diseases fault. My father took the drug so he could be by my mother's side every single day during her last days, and then she ended up staying alive. He hid his addiction from her for a long time as well. We only just learned about it recently, and thankfully the media hasn't picked up on it yet."

"Thankfully." I hesitate a moment, brushing my hair away from my face nervously. "So when Bellatrix spoke about seeing your father in the basement near her other portrait-"

"She was talking about seeing him on the drugs. He's back on them and worse than I've ever seen him. Mother's divorcing him because he refuses to quit and needs some serious attention. But she's too _perfect_ to be flawed by such a thing. She's divorcing him before calling for help to try and salvage her own name a little bit."

"She's going to abandon him?"

"Yes, me as well. Nothing I can say or do will make her change her mind. Trust me- I've tried."

I gulp, feeling uncomfortable. I'm not sure if I should try to comfort him again or throw out a witty remark and hope he sees the humor in it. Before I can decide, he's standing, brushing off his trousers.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm leaving Weasley- I believe we're finished here. You know the truth now, so you can stop with those endless questions of yours. As for me, I think I've told you quite enough about myself. So please, don't ask anything of me ever again. It's not like you revealed anything to me."

"It's not like you asked," I mutter in response.

He pauses then, wand faced away from me. "No, I suppose I didn't. But if you don't mind Weasley, this is my secret. And I'd be rather pleased if you left if that way."

"It might be your secret but that still doesn't mean you don't need some sort of help. Tell your friends or-"

"My friends already know," he says dully, remaining facing away from me. "There's nothing they can do either. My father will go to rehab and my mother will disappear off to Merlin knows where. My family's going to fall apart Weasley. At least I can accept it."

"But you shouldn't have to accept it. Come on, I can help you-"

"No, you can. Now stop offering. I'm not going to take your help. This is something I have to do alone."

I purse my lips as he walks away, leaving me alone in the corridor. I don't care; I can find my way back to my room. What I'm really concerned about is Malfoy. He seems to be fighting this battle all alone. His friends might know, but from what I've seen throughout the day it doesn't look like anyone is helping him- or knows how to help him.

I grip my wand tightly. No one should fight a battle like that alone.

* * *

Time passes sometimes slower than we care to admit. Eventually Bella's portrait is removed from Hogwarts all together, and my walks with Malfoy return to their mundane pattern, without the constant insults from Bellatrix each time we walk down that particular hall. But the absence of the portrait doesn't solve any of our problems. Instead, things just continue to get worse.

The news of Malfoy's father got out less than a week after our conversation. Astoria disappeared that very night without a trace from England. And Scorpius didn't come on patrols for a week following that. He wasn't in class either. I can't say that I blame him.

I miss him though, something that I'm a bit hesitant to admit. I miss his annoying banter in the hallways and our conversations while he patrolled. I even miss how annoying he was. Over all I just miss him.

There's a rumor going around that he won't continue to be a prefect anymore since he doesn't attend classes. Tonight I split off from my patrol partner, wandering down the lonesome path that I once walked with Scorpius during patrols, the path that used to lead us to Bella's portrait. There I find a familiar face.

"So you do come out of your room," I say, wandering closer to him. He doesn't even look up at me as I approach, and continues to stare at the wall.

"I'm not a hermit," Scorpius replies, remaining still. "I thought I might come out and stretch my legs. I knew you were patrolling tonight and figured you wouldn't get on my arse too badly if you saw me out here."

"You're just hoping."

"Yeah, I am." He shrugs. "But if you do give me a detention or something, it's not like it's the worst thing that's ever happened to me."

I take a breath at that, clearing my head. "Scorpius, I'm sorry."

"Here we go again with the pity party. Don't you understand that I'm not looking for pity?"

"Clearly. And I'm not offering you any. I just want you to understand that I am sorry about what's happened to your family."

"Unfortunately that doesn't change anything," he mutters, looking out a nearby window. "If it did maybe I would care more about what you have to say."

I sigh, rubbing my temples. Hesitating a moment, I pull something out of my pocket and slide it along the floor towards him. He finally looks away from the wall and window and back at me.

"What's this?"

"It's a good luck charm."

He scoffs, setting it down again. "It's child's play."

"Call it what you want Scorpius, but I find that it gives me good luck. And I think you need a bit of luck right now."

"Why do you care Weasley?" he snaps, turning towards me. "Why do you care so fucking much?"

I shrug, backing away from him. "I told you Malfoy, I don't think anyone should suffer through something like this alone. And you've chosen to be alone. But remember that there are people out there who will willingly help you through this situation. And if your friends won't be there for you then I will. Just remember that."

I turn then and hurry off before he can reply. I don't want to argue, but instead give him a chance to think things over. Maybe he won't listen to anything I had to say and he'll think I'm crazy. Maybe it's a chance I'm willing to take to help someone in need.

He says nothing insulting as I hurry away, and doesn't call out my name. I smile as I finally stop a good distance away and around a corner. It's a good thing that he didn't call after me.

That means he's thinking. And if he's taking the time to think maybe that means he's finally considering taking me up on my offer. Maybe he's ready to accept some help.

Merlin, I hope so.

**~FIN~**


End file.
